


My Wild Sweet Love

by rebeccaofsbfarm



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Cowboy Eddie, Literally just cowboy porn but with feelings, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, So much smut, Whorehouse Buck, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccaofsbfarm/pseuds/rebeccaofsbfarm
Summary: Eddie is tired after traveling hundreds of miles on horseback and finds Buck working in a whorehouse. They share a meal, and then some other things, and it quickly devolves into an unlikely happy ending for both of them.I have no idea what to say about this fic, but consider that I've been calling it the Wild West Porn AU, and give it a chance.
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 235





	My Wild Sweet Love

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this fic is a joke, and the joke is on me. This started with the idea, hey what if Eddie was a cowboy and Buck worked in a saloon? Then the saloon turned into a brothel, and SOMEBODY caught feelings. 16.8k of mostly porn with some feelings later, here we are.
> 
> The biggest joke here is that I've spent years mocking my mother for reading cowboy porn novels, and I basically just wrote one. LMAO Becca, joke's on you.
> 
> Hope you like it.
> 
> Title: My Wild Sweet Love - First Aid Kit

Eddie stares up at the scattering of stars above him, wondering if they’re the same stars keeping watch over his family in Texas. It feels like an age since he saw them last, and with delays it has been nearly a month since he left for the last time.

He has never driven cattle quite this far before, and as they near Santa Fe, he is glad to know the job is nearly done. It’s the last night of the drive, and he sits with the others around the fire, talking about how they’ll spend the hard-earned cash they’ll receive the next morning.

The others speak excitedly of a favorite brothel in a place to the west of Santa Fe called Loma Parda. The other men are meant to return with him to El Paso, but it becomes clear that they will spend the next night in Loma Parda, or as the men called it interchangeably, _Sodom on the Mora_ , named for its proximity to the Mora River.

It has been a long while since he had lain with a woman of any kind, and he’s not above the temptation, but while the others may be willing to spend their hard-earned wages on entertainment, Eddie’s wages are too precious. He has to support his son and his abuela, waiting for him back on the claim outside of El Paso.

They start early, concluding their business swiftly at the ranch and pocketing rolls of bills, before the others point them in the direction of Loma Parda. It’s late afternoon when they arrive, and Eddie is grateful to see the clapboard and brick structures that make up the main street. Every other building seems to be a saloon, but they ride past them in search of the place the others had spoken of. Eddie wishes he could just stop for a hot meal, but he’s afraid he’ll lose his party if he doesn’t know where they’re headed.

He follows the others on horseback until they reach a large house just off main street, and they hand their horses off to the boy at the stables. The oldest among them, a man named Jed, leads them into the building and into an immaculate parlor. There are quite a few soldiers here, other cowboys, businessmen in suits, all of them attended to by beautiful, if work-worn, women of all kinds.

Eddie falls back, hovering near the doorway with his hat in his hands, as the girls sidle up to his cohorts, leading them to reclined chaises or up a grand staircase to their rooms, lavishing attention on them. A young woman with curly red hair and a tight corset strides toward him, and he knows that if she reaches him, he will give in, and it will cost him dearly. He feels the roll of cash in his pocket, thinks of his son, and darts out the front door.

He has some time to waste. He’s afraid to leave the others or he might lose track of them, and the journey is safer with companions, so he loiters on the porch. He waits what seems like an inordinate amount of time before his curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a walk around the perimeter of the house. He smells something cooking in the kitchens out back, and he his empty stomach growls, leading him to the open kitchen door. From the step he can see a man leaning over the stove, a bit unusual considering. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, which close-cropped blond hair. His shirt is mostly unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, and still his neck looks damp with sweat. The desert is hot enough, in the kitchen it must be stifling.

He knocks at the threshold and the man looks up from his stew pot, a smirk crossing his face, “Business entrance is up front.”

“I did notice that, yes,” Eddie laughs awkwardly. “I just smelled what you were cooking and wondered if I could pay for a hot meal without all the uh…extracurriculars?”

The man’s eyes rake over him, taking him in, and then he nods tersely, gesturing toward the table next to him. It’s the sort meant for peeling potatoes rather than serving a meal, but Eddie is just happy to be astride something more comfortable than his saddle.

“No charge,” the man adds quietly. “I’ve made plenty. It’s cook’s day off, so I make do.”

He takes two bowls from a cupboard, then disappears into a room that must be the pantry and returning with two hard biscuits. He ladles the stew over the biscuits and takes two spoons from a drawer, before sliding the second bowl toward Eddie and settling in next to him.

“I’m Buck, by the way,” he introduces himself, before blowing across a spoonful of hot stew and ladling it into his mouth. Eddie isn’t certain what the stew is made of, but he can tell that there are some root vegetables and some sort of salted beef or game. Unlike the meals he’s eaten on the drive, this one seems to be seasoned, and he’s impressed by how good it is, especially since this man has already admitted that he is not the cook.

“Eddie,” he nods. “Thank you for sharing with me. I’ve been on horseback for nearly three weeks driving cattle, and everything has tasted like leather. This is a vast improvement.”

“The girls seem to like it,” Buck smiles, and Eddie is curious once again about Buck’s role here, what he’s doing if he isn’t serving guests in the parlor or cooking in the kitchens.

“Is it rude if I ask?” Eddie starts, and Buck seems to follow his line of thinking, but forces him to finish it himself, “Are you one of the—that is, do you offer—”

“Am I a whore?” Buck asks carefully, and Eddie is glad that he is no longer suffering under his own etiquette, but flushes at how forward Buck is. “Well that is a matter of opinion, but no, I do not sell my wares out front. This is my Aunt Libby’s place. She keeps me on as the handyman, but most of the time I’m here to provide a bit of muscle if things get hairy. I have a room off the kitchen.”

He points his thumb over his shoulder to a door next to the pantry. Eddie’s eyes trail to a shape beside it. Stored in the corner is a tub he’d once seen advertised in the Sears Roebuck catalog as a “hip tub”. It has an odd shape, tall in the back and short in the front, but deep enough for a person to submerge themselves up to their hips and use a cloth to wipe down the rest. Suddenly he can feel all the stickiness and silt that is stuck to his skin after the long journey. He doesn’t realize that he is staring longingly at the tub until Buck smiles at him.

“Your friends may be a while if they’re attending to business,” he nods to the front of the house. “I can draw you a bath if you’d like.”

Eddie opens his mouth to decline, but Buck is already on his feet. There’s a short pump on the kitchen sink, and he pumps enough to fill a kettle, before replacing the stew on the stove with the brass kettle.

He reaches for two wooden buckets, and Eddie finds his voice, “Please, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no trouble,” Buck tells him. “It’s not often I’m blessed with male company…to talk to I mean. And I can see how much you’d like one. Please, just finish your meal, and I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Eddie makes the motions of returning to his plate, but he leans back so he can see out the kitchen door to where Buck is pumping water in the yard. He rolls his shirtsleeves up even further, and his arms flex as he fills the buckets. Eddie wishes he could capture the image to call it up later, the way his muscles flex as he wipes the sweat from his brow before carrying the heavy buckets back to the kitchen.

Stifling the thought, Eddie stands to help him, his meal finished. Buck holds up a hand to stop him, pouring the buckets of water into the tub until it fills. As he finishes, the kettle whistles, and Buck turns in time to take it off the stove. He pours the steaming water into the tub to regulate the temperature, and then he smirks over his shoulder at Eddie, before taking a jar down from a nearby shelf.

“Rose petals,” Buck answers his silent question, dropping a handful into the bath. “You’ve got to bathe like a whore in a whorehouse, Eddie.”

He can smell the sweet scent as he approaches the tub, crouching to test the water. It’s lukewarm, but not as shocking as the cold waters of the stream. He stands, and Buck offers to excuse himself, but Eddie asks him to stay, afraid what may happen if he’s found alone in the kitchen.

Buck makes himself busy, or tries to, putting the dishes in the sink to tend to later and returning the stew to heat. He finishes too quickly it seems, because now he stands impatiently, trying to look away from where Eddie is carefully unbuttoning his shirt.

Eddie doesn’t want to embarrass him, but he’s sure that a man that works in a brothel is hard to embarrass, so he asks, “Would you like to watch?”

Buck stills, and his eyes find Eddie’s, “I’m not—”

“I’m not saying you are,” Eddie finishes, his tone clipped, but he continues trailing his fingers down the seam of his shirt, undoing buttons as he goes. “Or that I am. But I’m letting you know that you can if you wish.”

Buck doesn’t say anything, but his eyes trail Eddie’s hands down his body as he removes his shirt, then his braces. He unfastens his trousers and lets them fall to the floor, then looks up to see that Buck is watching him closely now, his lip tucked between his teeth.

Eddie steps into the bath, sinks into the water, then adjusts so his legs are settled against the edge. There’s a tall ledge behind his back, and he leans into it, relaxing into the rose-scented tub. Buck hasn’t moved, stands stock still in the center of the kitchen, so Eddie gives him an excuse to move.

“Do you have something I can wash with?” he asks, and Buck, looking grateful for the distraction, shuffles beyond the door to what must be his room and returns with a cloth. He reaches out to hand it to Eddie, but Eddie’s hand closes around his fingers, holding them there. “Please sit.”

Buck hesitates, then nods silently, letting the rag slip from his fingers into Eddie’s grasp. Forsaking a chair, he settles on the floor next to the tub, facing Eddie. He tries to hold Eddie’s gaze for the sake of modesty, but it doesn’t take long for his attention to wander, his eyes shifting to where Eddie drags the cloth against his chest, trailing the path of the cloth as it dips lower. Unbeknownst to him, Eddie is watching too, seeing the focus and determination drift into Buck’s features. Eddie knows he needs to fill the charged silence if he wants to stay in the bath long enough to wash himself, so he begins to ask questions.

“How did you come to live here?” he asks, foregoing any formality. “I’m sure there’s a story there.”

Buck holds his hand out, offering to take the cloth then nodding toward his exposed legs, which are a stretch to reach in this position. He seems to welcome the distraction as Eddie hands him the wet cloth. His legs are crusted with mud, and Buck gently works to wash it from him.

“My father died when I was young, then my mother. I have a sister that took care of me as best she could, even though she was just a child herself,” Buck tells him, not meeting his eyes. “She married the first man that asked, thinking it would save us, but it didn’t. He was cruel to her, and though I never saw him hit her, I knew it was just a matter of time. I tried to convince her to leave, but she said that her vows were binding. He must have found out, because he threw me out. Maddie, my sister, she managed to sneak me enough train fare to come stay with my aunt.

“I was still a kid then, barely fifteen, and the girls took care of me,” he says warmly, “I think they liked having a pet around the house, so they all taught me something. And not the things you’re thinking of. Cheyenne taught me how to cook. Darla taught me how to darn my socks. Beth taught me how to dance, how successfully I can’t say, but she tried. These ladies are the closest to a family I’ve ever had, and I take care of them as best I can. How about you? Where is home for you?”

“Just outside of El Paso,” Eddie answers, and Buck directs him to lean forward. He leans against his knees, letting his head fall into his crossed arms. Buck begins to swipe the cloth along his shoulder blades, then down his spine.

Eddie feels like a rattlesnake losing its skin, all the grit and grime falling off of him into the sweet-smelling water. The others will mock him mercilessly if they catch a whiff, but for now he is content to submerge himself in the cool water and allow Buck to sooth the aches of his body with his careful touch.

Buck waits for him to continue as he smooths the wet cloth over the back of his neck, and Eddie is so relaxed that he does, speaking more honestly to Buck than he had spoken to any of the men on the cattle drive, men he’d known for weeks. Something is different about Buck, something that allows him to skirt his inhibitions and tell him the truth.

“A few years ago, things were the best they’ve ever been,” he begins, turning his face so Buck can hear him. “I was just married, and we were expecting. My parents lived with us, and my father and I could plant and raise livestock on our claim. Shannon was so excited to bring our child into the world, but it was a hard labor, and…

“Anyway, my mother and grandmother stepped in to help. We had a son, Christopher, and I would carry him every morning to visit her grave, leave prairie wildflowers there, and return home, where my mother and father would insist that no father could raise a child on his own. My father made the decision to leave after he heard some things in town, things about Mexicans, like my father, so he and my mother decided to cross the border into Mexico.

“They expected me to go with them, and part of me considered it, but my abuela told them that her husband was buried in American soil and she would wait to be buried next to him. I offered to stay with her, but in a way, it was her that saved me from giving up the raising of my son.

“It’s just the three of us now. Without my father, I can’t maintain the land. I sold most of the livestock, besides some goats and chickens, and eventually I had to find another source of income,” Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief as he tells the whole truth, possibly for the first time. “So I have to leave my son and my abuela alone on the frontier, riding out on month-long cattle drives to pay the rent on land I can’t afford to keep up. And the whole time I’m away I worry about them, hoping they’re safe out there, alone on the frontier.”

Buck places a soothing hand on his shoulder and catches his eyes, “That sounds hard. I’m sorry about your wife, and your father, and your land. But you have a beautiful son, someone to return home to. You’re lucky in that at least.”

Eddie’s face spreads into an unconscious smile when he thinks of his son. Christopher uses crutches to get around—a result of his mother’s hard labor the doctor had said—but it isn’t enough to keep him down. He’s such a good boy, always waking in the morning light to help Eddie feed the goats and gather the eggs, talking to the animals like friends. He brightens Eddie’s world just by being in it.

“He’s my whole heart,” Eddie admits, and Buck smiles with him, his joy obviously contagious. Buck’s hand lingers on his knee, his thumb soothing the crux of his thigh, and he must realize how delicate the gesture is, because he suddenly claps a hand over the spot, as if to desensitize it to the gentle touch, and stands. Eddie is about to stand and follow him, but Buck shakes his head.

“Let me get your hair,” Buck directs him, and Eddie watches as he reaches for a pitcher on a high shelf, exposing a sliver of tan skin as his shirt rides up his back. He fills the pitcher with water from the tap, then stands over Eddie, motioning for him to lean forward again.

He pours the water over his head slowly, letting the droplets pearl down his back, then uses his free hand to comb through Eddie’s hair, his nails dragging gently again his scalp. Eddie sighs with how good it feels, and he closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of Buck’s fingers against his skin. When he opens his eyes, he finds Buck watching him. The pitcher has emptied, but Buck’s hand still hovers in the air as if he were still pouring.

Buck reaches out a curious finger to trace it over the stubble across Eddie’s chin, muttering, “You could use a shave.”

“Worried it might chafe?” Eddie asks, and he realizes too late that he had spoken the words aloud. Buck’s fingers still against his face, and Eddie struggles to meet his eyes. When he does, he sees at once that the desire he had accidentally confessed was not his alone.

There’s a splash as the water is displaced and Eddie stands and he feels exposed, both physically and emotionally. To his surprise, Buck holds his gaze, as if he has found his grounding in the depths of Eddie’s eyes. Eddie steps out of the bath onto the dusty floorboards, allowing Buck to close the gap if he wishes.

Buck’s hand reaches out to cup the side of his throat experimentally, pressing his thumb to the hollow of Eddie’s throat before dragging it to his pulse point. For a moment he stills, and then he is leaning forward to press his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie sinks into his arms, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s tugging at the hem of Buck’s loose shirt, held together by two buttons at his navel, his gorgeous throat already exposed, his for the taking. And he does, his lips traveling from Buck’s tender mouth to suck at the hollow of his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat against his tongue.

His thumbs loop into Buck’s braces, pulling them over his shoulders and then deftly undoing the last of his buttons, the final protection against the onslaught of his frenzied touch. Buck chuckles, deep in his throat, as Eddie’s hands smooth over his abdomen under his shirt, his face tucked into Buck’s neck to kiss his temple.

“Should we take this somewhere more private?” Buck teases, though he seems to sense that Eddie would be willing to take him on the table if need be—an accurate assessment. Eddie glances at the door that he had disappeared into to retrieve the wash cloth, and walks him toward it, struggling for the knob as he tugs at the band of Buck’s trousers, wishing them to be equals in undress. The trousers fall to the ground as they step into the small room, and Eddie takes only a moment to take in the layout before searching out the bed.

It’s a brass bed with high head and footboards, like something you’d find in—well—a whorehouse. The bed lets out a resounding creak as they fall onto it, and Eddie finds that his hands want to explore every warm inch of Buck’s skin, following the touch of his fingers with the press of his lips as he leaves a trail of kisses across Buck’s chest.

He hasn’t been with anyone since his wife, hasn’t been touched like this in years, and Buck is so eager, fingernails dragging against Eddie’s scalp as he sinks lower down his body. He traces the outline of Buck’s hipbones with his thumbs, then scatters kisses down one of them until he reaches Buck’s erection, and he knows he should feel some reluctance—not only is Buck a stranger, but he has never been up close to another man like this—and yet still, he is aching to touch Buck, wants to know how he tastes, how he _feels_.

“You don’t have t—” Buck tries to tell him, mistaking his awe for discomfort, but is cut off when Eddie runs his thumb up the vein of his shaft curiously, then lowering his head to take Buck’s length into his mouth, humming around his girth as he tastes him. His fingers curl into fists, tugging the strands of Eddie’s hair between them, and he seems to recognize that he is pulling, that it might hurt, but Eddie moans with satisfaction, taking Buck deeper into his throat. “Fuck, _Eddie_!”

Eddie grins around him, smug with his own success, as he flattens his tongue against the base of Buck’s cock, holding there as his throat contracts at the trespass, and then Buck is pulling him off, dragging him up his body as he ruts against him.

Buck searches for his lips, and when he finds them, he licks into his mouth, tasting himself against Eddie’s tongue. Eddie’s fingers are frantic, needing more as Buck seems to focus wholly on the taste of his mouth. Buck smiles against him, sensing his frustration, and asks, “How do you want me?”

Eddie is impatient, wants all of him simultaneously knowing how short their time is, but settles on what he wishes for most, feeling Buck as he fills the empty space inside of him. He leans in close to his ear, feels Buck shiver as he breathes against him, “Will you let me ride you?”

“Will I let…” Buck asks quietly, his throat catching on his words, and he must have said the right thing because Buck pulls him into another kiss. This one is sweet in its reservations. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” Eddie pleads, and then lifts himself to balance on his haunches as Buck sits up, leaning against the massive headboard. He seems to remember something as Eddie crawls up his long legs on his knees, and Eddie pauses as Buck leans to his side table returning with a small jar of some sort of salve.

“It isn’t much more than grease, but it will make things easier,” Buck explains quickly as he coats his fingers in the salve, then gestures, his arms wide and inviting, for Eddie to crawl into his lap. Eddie does as Buck requests, feeling the hard press of Buck’s cock beneath him. “Lean into me.”

Eddie leans forward, wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck, “So you have done this before?”

“I’ve picked up a few things around here,” Buck teases him, drumming his fingers over the muscle of Eddie’s ass. “Thankfully nothing that itches, but a few tricks at least.”

“Well you’re welcome to let me in on your secrets,” Eddie murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, and he hopes that Buck believes him to mean in _this_ exclusively, in bed. But there’s an honesty in his eyes that says neither of them quite believe that.

Buck breaks his gaze, then he’s kissing his throat, and the moment of quiet conversation feels like the eye of a hurricane as Buck’s mouth sucks at the hollow of his throat, travelling until his teeth scrape along Eddie’s collarbone. His fingers are kneading now, and then he presses his long middle finger against Eddie’s entrance. Immediately there’s discomfort. Buck must sense this because he hesitates, and in his awareness, Eddie finds reason to continue.

“Please. Go on.”

Buck presses a kiss to his shoulder, then does as he says, and by the time Eddie feels a second finger inside him, leading into a third, he is moaning against Buck’s lips again, words of soft encouragement passing back and forth between them, and Eddie is bearing down on Buck’s fingers, wanting the press of Buck’s hard length inside him. There is something about Buck, about the way he is touching him, that makes Eddie want to know him in every way he can.

“Are you okay?” Buck asks him, looking for his consent at every step, even if he seems unsure of Eddie’s answer. In this moment he has never been so sure, and he proves it, leaning back and guiding Buck’s cock to his entrance and inserting the tip himself, before returning to hold Buck around his shoulders to steady himself as he sinks into him.

The press of Buck inside him is tight, and his breath hiccups in his throat as he adjusts to the pressure. Buck must hear him, because he kisses his throat just there, soothing his hands over his spine until Eddie thinks he’s ready. He isn’t sure, doesn’t know what it will feel like, just know that he wants _more_.

His hips stutter into a rhythm, and Buck is holding him by the hips, assisting in the movement. He is watching Eddie, his attention rapt, as Eddie rolls his hips against him.

“You’re so _good_ baby,” Buck murmurs, leaning forward to press kisses against his sternum. “You feel so good. Do you like this?”

Eddie knows that if he said no, Buck would withdraw, because he is _good_ too, in a way Eddie knows even without the benefit of his extended company. But withdrawing from Buck is the furthest thing from his mind at this moment, and he pulls him in closer, his hips a steady crescendo, “You’re incredible. Please, Buck, _more_.”

Buck stills for a moment, and then he’s directing Eddie to shift himself, “Can you crouch on the balls of your feet?”

Eddie does so, and he has gained too much height to hold Buck by the shoulders, so he steadies himself on the slim brass bars of the headboard. Buck waits until he has found his center, then throws him off it entirely, wrapping his strong arms beneath Eddie’s thighs, and lifting him, taking Eddie’s weight into his hands and slotting them together at knee and elbow.

Eddie clings to the bars of the brass bed as Buck thrusts into him, his moans drowned out by the pounding of the headboard against the wall. The sound seems to encourage Buck, his nails digging into Eddie’s haunches as he surges forward, and Eddie hasn’t touched his cock, but he is throbbing as Buck seems to stumble onto something within him that sets him off. His reaction is explosive, like Buck has found the fuse to light him on fire, and he sinks into Buck’s arms as he comes. He clenches around him, and then Buck is coming too, biting at his collarbone to stifle his shouts of pleasure.

Eddie rolls off of him, gasping for breath and chuckling wildly to himself. Buck is quicker to recover, and he gets to his feet, heading back into the kitchen. Eddie wonders if this is it, but he waits a beat and Buck returns with a glass of water and Eddie’s clothes balled up in his hand. Eddie is afraid he is being dismissed, but Buck tosses the clothing onto the floor and crawls back into the bed, taking a sip from the glass before passing it to Eddie. He sits up against the headboard to take a drink, realizing that he had worked up a thirst.

“It’s nearing supper time and I didn’t want you to have to make the walk of shame in front of the girls. Not anything they haven’t seen of course, but they wouldn’t let me live it down,” he explains, then shifts so their shoulders are pressed together. He leans his head against Eddie’s shoulder, then tentatively reaches for Eddie’s hand, linking their fingers together.

“That was amazing,” Eddie breathes, taking another sip to moisten his lips before turning to press them to Buck’s scalp. “I can’t believe how good that was.”

“Hit the spot, did it?”

“A few of them, actually,” Eddie agrees, then finds the cleft of Buck’s chin with his index finger, guiding him into a kiss, just a gentle, grateful reminder of what they’d shared. He knows their time is short, but he doesn’t want to leave Buck thinking it meant nothing. “I wish…”

He doesn’t know how to finish sentence because a million things come to mind, but none of them would be easy and most of them are impossible, so he lets the words drift off. Buck seems to understand him, cupping his palm against Eddie’s face and shifting him down so he can press his lips to Eddie’s forehead in agreement.

“The others will be looking for me,” Eddie voices, his disappointment clear. “I need to get dressed. But thank you, for _everything_.”

He stands, doesn’t comment when he feels Buck’s eyes rake over his naked form. They’d shared so much more than this, what were words in comparison? He’s tugging on his trousers, beginning to fasten his braces to them, when he hears a scuffle at the door.

“Buck, are you in there? That old tramp is bothering Sadie again. I think he’s drunk. Do you think you can—” the door opens, and there’s a woman that looks to be in her late forties standing in the threshold. Embarrassment passes over her face quickly, but then she glances between Buck, still lying sated against the headboard of the brass bed, and Eddie, dragging on his clothes, and something like smugness fills her expression. “Well hello there. You must be a friend of my nephew.”

“My Aunt Libby,” Buck explains quickly, and Eddie turns to see a flush cross his face. He almost turns to kiss him again, but it feels inappropriate in mixed company, even if the intruder is an experienced madame and had seen far worse. “Let me get some clothes on and I’ll be right there, Libby.”

“Nice to meet you,” she nods at Eddie, then excuses herself. Buck stands and Eddie rakes his eyes over him one last time.

“I told you, I’m the muscle around here,” Buck reminds him.

Eddie watches him dress pointedly, then absently says, “Yes, I can see that.”

* * *

That night the men gather around the fire, drinking from their recently procured bottles of tequila and whiskey, and they insist on sharing stories of their exploits.

“Beautiful black curls,” Anton says, motioning to imaginary curls piled high on his head, then gesturing to his chest. “And incredible tits. Couldn’t even put my hands around them they were so big!”

The men laugh raucously, and Eddie takes a swig from an offered bottle before passing it along, trying not to draw attention to himself. He is distracting himself with the thought of that brass bed banging against the wall, a sound he can’t quite shake.

“I’ve seen Lola before. Big beautiful blue eyes. They’re so pretty going down on your—” Hank glances across the fire to where Eddie has drawn back, tracing lines in the dirt as he thinks of his own encounter. “What about you Eddie? You’re being rather quiet.”

He glances up at the eyes that have all fallen on him, and he feels awkward under their gaze. He only trusts these men so far as they work together and travelling the more than three hundred miles together keeps them safer than any one of them venturing alone.

“I like to keep my private affairs private, thank you,” he mutters, but only a few of them are satisfied. The others begin to run at the mouth, taunting him until he gives. “Blond, blue eyes. Legs that went on for miles.”

“A leg man huh?” Chuck asks, and Eddie curls into himself. Everything he had said about Buck was true, but the others didn’t seem to suspect the whole truth.

The conversation continues without him, and he lets it go, distracted remembering Buck’s long legs, his slim hips, and his massive biceps, before settling into the memory of his perfect blue eyes and the promises they held.

* * *

With the silhouette of his home finally in sight, Eddie belatedly realizes that he has only a week here before he must leave again on another job. In this week he must complete the list of tasks his abuela had saved for him, the repairs and business only he could do. She was no weak woman, Isabel Diaz. Her determination to stay in Texas had translated to a fierce protectiveness of her home and her grandsons.

As he rides up to the house, he can see her keeping watch, her trusty six-shooter at her side. She must see it’s him, otherwise it would be raised in greeting. She has proven before that she’s not afraid to use it. When he can finally see her face, it’s filled with a gentle smile, a gladness to have them all together again.

He stumbles from his saddle, catching himself on the dusty ground. He loops the horse’s lead around the post that will keep her from wandering away, then leaps the steps to the porch to fall into his Abuela’s open arms. He calls out for Christopher, and he joins them, pressing into his great-grandmother’s skirts and grabbing at his father’s side.

They go inside, where Abuela puts the gun in its place on the mantle, ready at a moment’s notice but out of Christopher’s reach. He has arrived just in time for supper, and Christopher insists on setting the table for him as he regales him of what he has missed. As Eddie watches his son, he knows what Chris does not, which is that the moments he has missed can’t be returned to him so easily. Even now, his son’s limbs seem longer, his biceps more defined. By the next time he returns, he expects his son will be at least a foot taller. If not then, soon enough.

Abuela serves them plates of tamales, and Eddie sees that his portions are loaded. She doesn’t believe he is fed well on the cattle drives, and she isn’t entirely wrong. Nothing fills him like his Abuela’s cooking. She waits until his mouth is full, and then gently begins to list the tasks he must complete before he leaves again.

“The goat pen needs mending,” she starts, ignoring her own plate in front of her. “I tried to fix it, but it’s only temporary. And your son is growing like a weed. I tried to let out his clothes with some of your old things, but we’ll need more bolts of fabric before the summer is out. You could use some new shirts as well.”

While he listens to her intently, he can see Christopher silently pleading to speak, and finally asks him how the animals are doing.

“Millie and Herbert are fighting again,” he informs him, referring to two of the goats. “I think he likes her, but she wants nothing to do with him. She thinks he’s been making eyes at Lulu.”

Christopher has a gift for storytelling, and he casts their livestock as his characters. There aren’t any children for miles, and he won’t be able to return to school until fall, so he pretends the animals are his friends. They all have names, and each one is a valued member of his little society.

Eddie is overwhelmed as Christopher goes on, describing the comings and goings of each of their many chickens, while his Abuela continues listing his chores under her breath. He can’t focus on either, and less so when he thinks of the absence nagging at him. What if he wasn’t alone? What if there was someone else to help mend the fence? To listen intently as Christopher weaves his fantastical stories? To lessen the worry lines that cross his grandmother’s forehead?

What if Buck was here to hold his hand beneath the table, to shoulder some of his burden? He’d only known him an hour, maybe two, but in his eyes he saw the promise of days, weeks…years together.

He realizes that Christopher has stopped, waiting for a response, and Eddie quickly recovers, laughing, hoping it’s the right reaction. Christopher laughs along with him, and he feels relieved that he wasn’t caught in his own thoughts. Then he looks to Abuela and sees that maybe he wasn’t totally opaque.

“Papa,” Christopher tugs at his sleeve. “Did you bring me anything from Santa Fe?”

Eddie directs him to his saddle bags, where there is paper bag full of candy, his one indulgence—financially anyway. He offers to get it for him, but Christopher insists, hobbling toward the bags without his crutches. Abuela reaches out, as if to help him, but Eddie subtly shakes his head, a quick motion to draw her attention without Chris noticing. He knows Christopher must learn to be independent, and if he has inherited an ounce of Eddie’s hardheadedness, he should be able to fend for himself.

“One piece tonight,” Eddie reminds him, dusk hovering low on the horizon. “Otherwise you won’t sleep. And the goats are always cranky if you aren’t the one to wake them.”

Christopher agrees, choosing a piece of licorice then directing Eddie to place his hoard on a high shelf where the bugs won’t get to it. Abuela starts to shoo him to bed, but Eddie volunteers to tuck him in. Even though he’s getting bigger, he scoops Christopher into his arms and climbs the stairs, finding a clean nightshirt and tugging it over his head before tucking him into the bed he shares with Abuela. Eddie has his own room off the large room that serves as parlor and dining room. It’s small, but gives him the first line of defense if anyone was to break in.

“Papa?” Christopher asks quietly, though he’s already drifting off to sleep. “Do you have to go again so soon? I wish you could stay here with us.”

“I wish I could too, mijo,” he promises, and he wishes that he had a say in it, wishes he could afford help to bring the land back to life, so they could stay here on their little claim and live a good life. But the roll of bills in his shirt pocket would only be enough to cover their rent and a few essentials, not nearly enough to hire someone. If only he could go back to the days when he and his father worked the land side by side. If only he had a partner.

* * *

He's drunk when he writes the letter, but not when he sends it. He knows he doesn’t have much to offer, and that Buck has no reason to trust him. After all, they’re still strangers. But some small part of him glows with hope as he hands the letter off to Mrs. Marsh at the El Paso Post Office. He’s set to leave for another cattle drive the next morning, and hopes the letter will reach Loma Parda ahead of him.

* * *

This time it’s Eddie that insists they leave for Loma Parda as soon as they have payment in hand. A few of the men have worked with him before and seem curious about his about-face, but don’t discourage him. When they reach Libby’s, he’s the first out of his saddle, and while he’s apprehensive about Buck’s response to his letter, he has anticipated seeing him again since the last moment they were together.

He walks into the parlor, his hat in his hands, and the girls take turns trying to get his attention until he finally spots Libby. She must see him at the same time because she crosses the room, shooing the girls away from him, “You’re Buck’s _friend_ aren’t you?”

The inflection is just enough for his ears and her understanding, but not enough to raise suspicion with his compatriots. Still, he’s sure he blanches as she guides him toward the kitchen, disappointed to find that Buck isn’t there.

“He did say he was going to chop some wood for the stove,” Libby surmises, directing him to the door that leads out into the yard, the same one he’d used when he’d first met Buck what seems like a lifetime ago. Sure enough, Eddie can hear heavy ax falls as he reaches the door.

He leans against the threshold to take in the scene, Buck shirtless in the yard, his biceps flexed as he splits logs on a short platform. He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, glancing into the glare of the late afternoon sun before noticing something in the doorway, his face breaking into a wide grin as he sees who it is.

Eddie isn’t sure if he should walk out to meet him, but finds that he is so distracted by the way Buck swaggers toward him, his braces loose at his sides, that he stands frozen until Buck meets him on the step. It gives him just enough height that their eyes meet at level, and Eddie wants so much to kiss him, is almost willing to risk it, but then Buck must think better of it because he gently shoves him into the kitchen, brushing past him in the doorway.

Immediately, Eddie is caught by the smell of him, the sweat and musk that immediately recalls the last time they had been together. It must show on his face, because when Buck turns from the sink with a wet cloth, wiping the sweat from his chest and neck, he does so smugly, allowing Eddie to watch him trail the cloth down his breastbone into the furrow of his navel.

“Can I help you?” he finally asks, coyly, setting aside the cloth to lean against the edge of the sink, facing Eddie. “May I remind you that the business entrance is up front?”

“The only business I have is with you,” Eddie warns him patiently, taking a step toward him. Buck wrings his hands against the ledge of the sink, as if to control himself. Eddie closes the distance until they are only inches away from each other, and at this distance Buck’s bravado falters. Eddie keeps his voice low, but tells him, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither,” Buck admits quietly, his voice barely a breath. Eddie leans toward him, lets his hand close over Buck’s fingers, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles.

He leans in further, his lips barely a breath from Buck’s ear when he says, “Alone in my bed at night, with my fist around my cock, wishing it was your mouth.”

Buck’s mouth falls open, and Eddie takes it as permission, reaching out to thumb over the pearls of Buck’s nipples, watching as he arches into his touch, and then suddenly he’s being shoved bodily towards Buck’s room off the kitchen. They barely cross the threshold before Buck is disrobing him, distractedly tugging at his buttons as their lips meet. Buck shrugs him out of his shirt, his lips trailing lower—against his throat, sucking curiously at his nipple, tonguing at the furrows of his abs—and then he’s on his knees, just as Eddie had imagined in at least a dozen dreams since their last encounter.

Buck is determined, dragging his trousers down until they pool at his feet, and he tosses them from his ankles and out of the way. Buck’s eyes go wide with appreciation, and Eddie cups his cheek, smoothing his thumb along his cheekbone as Buck’s mouth falls open.

“Look at me, please,” Eddie pleads, and Buck does as he asks, holding his gaze as he takes the head of Eddie’s cock into his mouth. He does so delicately at first, then finds a taste for it, sucking him in deep and tonguing at the base of his cock. Spit gathers in the corners of his mouth and Eddie brushes hair back from his forehead, longer now than when they first met, wanting to see the want pass over his irises as he chokes on Eddie’s dick. “So good for me.”

Something shines in Buck’s eyes, and he pulls off, gasping for air as he reaches out to roll Eddie’s foreskin over the head of his cock, his fingers massaging the head until it is almost too much. Eddie jerks from his touch reflexively, and Buck looks apologetic. Eddie doesn’t want him to fret, so he drags him up into a kiss, for the first time tasting himself on Buck’s lips.

He explores Buck’s mouth with his tongue as he tugs his trousers down from his hips, letting him step out of them before walking them toward the bed. Buck pushes him so he’s sitting on the edge, then straddles his hips, grinding against him until Eddie groans, deep in his throat. The friction is incredible, but he wants so much more. He’s afraid to ask for what he wants, wants Buck to be the one to offer himself, but he thinks of nothing but being inside him.

His hands give him away, kneading at Buck’s ass as he thrusts against him, his middle finger pressing against the tight ring of muscles as Buck moans against his lips.

“ _Please_ ,” he murmurs, and Eddie knows what he means, but he wants to make sure Buck isn’t doing this just to please him.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, but Buck is already shifting off of him to search for the jar of salve. Eddie reaches out to take it from him, but Buck stops him and directs him to stay there. He crawls to the foot of the bed, supporting himself against the brass bars of the footboard.

“I want you to fuck me,” Buck admits as he slathers the grease onto his fingers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since the last time. But first I want you to watch me get ready for you. Would you like that?”

Eddie chokes on the words that gather in his throat, none of which seem fitting, but Buck doesn’t wait for a response as he kneels on the mattress, spreading his knees wide. He circles his own entrance with one long finger, before inserting it to the first knuckle. He groans from deep in his diaphragm then continues, filling himself with one finger and then another. Once he inserts a third, he flexes them to widen the stretch, and Eddie can’t help but touch himself, stroking himself to the sounds of Buck’s groans. He takes the jar that Buck had tossed haphazardly on the mattress, and coats himself, his palm sliding easily against his shaft as he crawls toward Buck on the bed.

He fits against him until his chest is flush against Buck’s back, and Buck grips the rods of the footboard. Eddie kisses his shoulder blade, but then Buck’s breath catches when he scrapes his teeth along the curve of his shoulder so he bites down, eliciting a short yelp of encouragement.

“Are you ready for me?” Eddie asks, pressing his lips into the crux of Buck’s shoulder as he shifts his weight. Eddie smooths his thumbs over Buck’s hipbones as he waits for an answer, and when he receives it, ever so slowly he guides himself to Buck’s entrance.

When he pushes into the tightness, Buck throws his head back, his breath catching in his throat before slowly ghosting over his lips. He doesn’t move, doesn’t want to push him, but then Buck rolls his hips into him, and Eddie can’t help himself. Buck holds steady against the brass bars, and Eddie takes him around his waist, snapping his hips forward as Buck calls out his name, like a curse and a prayer all at once.

If he thought Buck suited him before, it was nothing compared to this, the way they fit together like they had been carved for each other from clay. His arms circle Buck’s waist, pulling him flush against him, settling his teeth against his throat as he rolls his hips into him. Buck calls out, his voice an ache, as his fingers grip the bars of the footboard, and there’s that banging sound again, the one he couldn’t forget.

“Yes! Fuck!” Buck screams, pushing him forward, and then Eddie is deepening his thrusts, bottoming out inside the tightness of Buck’s ass, feeling him contract against his length, whimpering for release.

“Come for me,” Eddie orders, holding himself back until Buck has his release, and when Buck whimpers with want, Eddie reaches around to stroke him, biting into his shoulder and rocking into him. The combination throws Buck over, and he’s shouting into his orgasm, coming over Eddie’s fingers. Eddie lifts them to his lips, and without hesitation, Buck sucks his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

Eddie leaves them there, grunting as he thrusts into Buck, leading up to his own climax. He loses control, his hips stuttering as he comes, and his vision blurs. He slumps against Buck, his limbs lax and yielding, but wraps his arms loosely around Buck’s waist, pressing grateful kisses over his shoulders where his teeth had been.

They fall sideways onto the bed, and Eddie pulls Buck against his chest, softening inside him and kissing constellations across his back. Buck chuckles, a warm sound, as he crosses his arms over Eddie’s, settling into his arms, “We didn’t get this part last time.”

“No, we didn’t,” Eddie agrees. “But I told the boys we’d stay in town until tomorrow, and then I’m not sure if I’ll leave with them at all. I wanted to see if I could make alternate arrangements.”

“You mean regarding this?” Buck asks, slipping a well-worn sheet of paper from beneath his pillow. He unfolds the letter—he’s obviously read it a few times—and begins to read from it.

“ _Buck, it’s late, and I can’t even see the words as I write them, but I can’t sleep for wanting you…_ ” he reads, using his shoulder and long reach to stop Eddie as he grabs for the letter. “ _You don’t know me from Adam, but I feel like I know you, or I want to_.”

Eddie desperately tickles his ribs, and Buck draws his arms to his chest to protect himself, bringing the letter within range. Eddie snatches it, hiding it behind his back, but Buck softens, nuzzling into his neck, “Please read it for me. I know what it says, but I want to hear it from you.”

He slides his lips against the curve of Eddie’s jaw, and Eddie is weak for him, bringing the letter into view and beginning where Buck had left off, “ _The first time I met you, I saw something in your eyes that I recognized, but I didn’t know what I saw until much later. Only then did I realize that reflected in your eyes was the loneliness in mine, that somehow in this wide world I stumbled into your life and found something I’d been looking for._

“ _I’m glad to be home with my son and my grandmother, but after meeting you, the emptiness at my side has become obvious, sneaking up over my shoulder when I least expect it. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ve never gotten anything for being silent, so I’ll speak my piece and you can do with it what you will._

“ _I have a claim that I used to farm with my father, but I can’t keep up with it by myself. I need a partner. And it isn’t much, long days from sun-up to sundown, but it’s honest work and a good life. I have so little to offer Buck. I’m a widower with no crops, a four-room frame house, and I live with my crippled son and an elderly grandmother that curses in Spanish when she’s angry with me. But I can offer you my bed, and my heart, and my life._

“ _It isn’t much, but I wonder if it might be enough? Yours, Eddie Diaz_ ,” Eddie finishes, the words quieting until they are nearly silent. Buck turns in his arms to face him finally, and there are tears threatening to fall in the corners of his eyes. Eddie can’t tell what they mean, but he readies himself for rejection rather than give in to the flare of hope in his chest.

“Eddie…”

“I can’t offer you a normal life Buck. I’ve had a wife and a child already, and I can’t offer you that. All I can give you is what I have,” he confesses, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to express them, readying himself for a fall. Instead, his ramblings are cut off with the press of a salty kiss to his lips, calloused fingertips tracing over the apples of his cheeks to catch the tears that have escaped.

“Eddie, I’m an orphan raised in a whorehouse,” Buck laughs, and Eddie leans into the palm of his hand carefully. “I don’t need normal. I need _you_.

“You think you have nothing to offer, Eddie?” he chuckles, choking back tears. “A home? A family? My wildest dreams? You’re offering me the world and I’ll be damned if I make the mistake of turning that down.

“You mean—"

“I want to say yes, but Eddie, I can’t believe you would let a stranger into your home. What will your grandmother say?” Buck asks, and Eddie feels him tense, trying to dampen the hope flickering inside his chest. “What do I have to offer your family that you don’t already have? I can’t be your wife. I can’t give you more children.”

“But you can give me this,” Eddie affirms, pressing his hand over Buck’s heart and feeling it thrum heavily against his palm. “Yourself. Strong shoulders to rest my head on after a day in the fields, long arms to hold me when I lose hope, two lips to kiss me silent when I’m being hard-headed and stubborn. Share my life with me. Be my partner.”

Buck takes his face in both of his hands and presses their lips together, a consecration of their promise that deepens into a confession. He can’t form the words, but he knows he trusts Buck entirely, that he loves him implicitly. He doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t understand many things, and none of them feel as good as Buck’s lips against his.

* * *

Eddie doesn’t realize he has fallen asleep until he wakes. Next to him, Buck’s side of the bed is empty, but he can hear his voice nearby, floating in through the cracked door. He focuses his ears to hear who Buck is talking to, recognizing the voice as Libby.

“I can ask him to stay a few days for you to find someone,” Buck offers, and he must be discussing his plans with his aunt. “I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”

“Oh Buck,” Libby soothes, her voice almost mothering, “I held the fort long before you were born and I can do it again. I’m just glad to see you so happy, and if he makes you happy, you should be with him. Love doesn’t come along every day. I would know.”

“Love?” Buck asks nervously. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well I do, and I know the difference,” Libby tells him, leaving no room for argument. “You may not know it now, but you’ve found it. Hold onto it, Buck.”

Buck hesitates, but then promises, “I will.”

Eddie hears a shift as a chair slides across the floor, and one of them must be standing. From the light footfalls, it must be Libby.

“Is he still sleeping? What did you do to him?”

Buck chuckles, and Eddie knows that he is blushing, “He was tired from the journey, so I can’t shoulder all the blame. I figured I’d let him rest for a while and then I’d bring him something to eat. I sent word to the other cowboys that he’ll be held up and they should go on without him. We’ll leave in the morning.”

“Do you have everything you need?” Libby asks, and he can hear as she prepares something in the kitchen. “Money? Do you need money?”

“Libby, you don’t—”

“Yes, I do,” she hushes him, and money must change hands because she tells him, “Thankfully the good lord never blessed me with wee’uns, so I’ve got some to spread around to my favorite nephew. Make sure to plant some yellow roses when you get to Texas. They’re my favorite.”

There’s a clinking of dishes, then before he can pretend to be asleep, Buck is pushing the door open, carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of something and a tall glass of water, “You’re up?”

“I am,” Eddie agrees, sitting up in the bed as Buck crawls in next to him. He should feel uncomfortable, still nude but for the blanket wrapped around his waist, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes a better look at what Buck has brought him.

“Libby’s chili and corn bread,” Buck tells him. “It’s a secret recipe, but she just wrote it down for me as a parting gift.”

He slides the tray onto Eddie’s lap before tapping proudly over his shirt pocket. Eddie picks up a spoon and begins to blow on a spoonful of chili as Buck chatters, “Unless your abuela is protective of the kitchen, I’d be happy to do my part.”

Finally, Eddie tastes the chili, and hums with pleasure, “If you can make this, you’re hired. I’ll make your case to Abuela.”

Buck smiles wide before picking up his own spoon, leaning forward to share the tray as he tucks in to eat his supper. Eddie feels the warmth of the interaction and knows that it has far more to do with Buck than it does to do with the steaming bowls of chili.

* * *

They’ve been travelling for weeks, but the time seems short with Buck as company. The sun is setting on their final night before they reach El Paso, and he offers to stay in Las Cruces for the night, in a bed rather than sleeping rough as they had most nights, but Buck takes one look at the darkening sky and insists on roughing it.

They stop near a stream off the Rio Grande, filling their canteens and watering the horses before settling in for the evening. Tomorrow Buck will meet his family, and they him. He tries not to reveal how important this meeting is to him, how much the opinions of the two people closest to him matter when it comes to this choice. Buck is nervous enough without the added pressure, so he keeps it to himself.

Buck begins cooking beans and salted pork, the easiest of the meals he can manage over an open fire, as Eddie rolls out their bedrolls and tries to make things comfortable. Buck had been right when he had glanced up at the sky. It’s a beautiful clear night, and every star is visible, pinholes in the black velvet of the New Mexico sky. Soon he’ll be back in Texas, where the stars are even brighter, and he can’t wait to share them with Buck.

They eat quickly, then set their bowls aside to lean back against the bedroll. They gaze up at the stars that blanket the night sky, and Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand. He’d been shy about touching him at first, but increasingly finds it hard to resist. Buck soothes his thumb over Eddie’s palm, then brings his hand to his face so he can kiss Eddie’s knuckles one at a time.

“Do you know any of the constellations?” Buck asks, pointing up at the sky with his other hand, lips still pressed to Eddie’s skin.

Eddie shakes his head, then corrects himself, “Any cowboy worth his salt knows the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and the North Star. Do you know any?”

Buck raises his finger to the sky, tracing a W shape in the stars, “That’s Cassiopeia. She was quite the piece of work. Offended the Gods by saying she was more beautiful than Zeus’s wife, which you just don’t do. Zeus was like God for the Greeks,” Buck annotates, realizing that he’s ranting, “so she was exiled to the stars. When her husband found out, he was distraught. She was a lot, but she was _his_ , you know? So he asked Zeus, begged him actually, to send him to the stars to be with her. And he did. That’s him up there, Cepheus the King. Next to her for all eternity.”

Buck traces the square and triangle that make up the constellation, like a child’s version of a house with a peaked roof. Eddie watches him carefully, his excitement and passion as he tells the story of these star-crossed lovers, sees the stars reflected in his eyes. He wants to ask him how he knows all of this, but instead says something else entirely and the words are out before he knows that he says them.

“I love you.”

Buck falls silent beside him, and Eddie wishes he could take it back, wonders if he was wrong to say it. But then Buck pulls him into his chest, curling into him and slotting his face into Eddie’s neck from behind, nuzzling there. He presses his lips to Eddie’s ear, his arms a vice around him as he whispers, “I’ve been meaning to say it for days, but I was afraid it would spook you.”

“You can say it now,” Eddie reminds him, hanging on his every word.

Buck chuckles self-consciously, and he must realize that in his excitement he had forgotten the words themselves, “Oh Eddie, of course I love you. Just the promise of a future made me pack up my saddle bags and leave the only home I’ve ever known to be with you. If I’m honest, I think I’ve loved you from the moment I set eyes on you.”

He didn’t realize Buck was being delicate before, but now his arms have closed around his chest, so hard it nearly smothers him. Even as he struggles to breathe, he doesn’t want to break free. Instead he feels the hard press of Buck’s body against him, from chest to thighs, with an especially pressing hardness against his buttocks. He rocks his hips to acknowledge the presence of Buck’s erection, and Buck loosens his arms guiltily, shifting away from him. Eddie is suddenly overcome with desire, meeting him again and circling his hips suggestively.

Buck breathes out slowly against the nape of his neck, obviously turned on, so Eddie continues. He reaches behind him, grabbing Buck’s flank and pulling him forward to grind against him, “Is this what you want Buck? Do you want to make love to me under the stars?”

The request makes Buck shudder, and his fingers curls at Eddie’s side, his thumbs plying at his waistband and dragging it down. His face curls into Eddie’s neck, and he uses his wrists to shove Eddie’s pants down further, cupping his ass as he presses hot kisses to his jaw. Eddie feels the absence as he withdraws his hands, but then he’s shifting, tossing their saddle bags for something, and then he returns with a familiar jar of salve.

Eddie hears the sounds of Buck’s belt coming unbuckled then sliding through his belt loops before being tossed aside, and then Buck’s hands return to his ass, a long finger probing at his entrance. Buck’s teeth slide against his shoulder through his shirt, and Eddie doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he uses them to push his pants down further, giving Buck better access. Buck thanks him by nuzzling into his neck, continuing to spread him open with one hand as his other circles his waist, spreading his hands wide and warm against Eddie’s abdomen.

“Please, Buck. I’m ready,” he pleads, and Buck chuckles against him before retracting his fingers, sloppily wiping the excess salve at the pucker of his entrance, before shifting to curl around him, his hard cock pressing against Eddie’s tailbone.

Buck teases him, thrusting without purchase against the small of his back, and then Eddie is groaning with frustration, reaching behind him to still Buck’s thigh. He feels Buck’s breath hot on his ear when he whispers, “Tell me Eddie. Tell me what you want.”

“Jesus Christ, I want you to fuck me,” Eddie swears through gritted teeth. “I need…fuck, I _need_ …”

“Shhh,” Buck soothes, realizing how tightly wound he is. He trails his fingers down Eddie’s spine. Eddie loosens at the touch, and as he settles, Buck curls against him, licking into the shell of his ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Buck shifts his hips forward, pressing against Eddie’s entrance as he whispers sweet words of love against his skin, before sinking into him. Eddie’s chest rattles, a sigh of relief filling the space between them. Buck’s arms curl around him at his shoulders and waist as he rolls his hips into him, a steady swell that leaves him breathless.

He curls his fingers around the arm across his chest, holding firm to Buck as he thrusts earnestly now, his cries a wanting ache beside Eddie’s ear, and he can’t imagine how he ever lived with less than this, Buck’s need for him only dwarfed by his own desperation for Buck.

“I’m yours for the taking Buck,” he stutters, and the words that spill from his lips feel nonsensical, but he hopes they betray how deep Buck is buried inside him. He knows Buck can find the bundle of nerves inside him that will let him see more stars that even the night sky can produce, but he can also feel him piercing the barriers he has carefully cultivated to protect his heart from more loss and disappointment. He should fight it, not allow Buck to possess him so fully, but instead he resigns himself to his fate. “I’m _yours_.”

The rush of emotion spreads through his chest, chasing through his abdomen and resulting in his orgasm, howling as Buck holds him through it. Buck arms are a comforting vice around him as he gives into his feelings, relenting to feelings of love and security he has never known. Buck presses featherlight kisses to his hair, pressing deep inside him and letting Eddie contract around him till he shudders with his own orgasm, his voice high and breathy as he muffles his cries into Eddie’s hair. Tucking his head into the nape of Eddie’s neck as he catches his breath, his limbs loosen around Eddie until he can roll over, pulling Buck into a grateful kiss that tries to communicate what his words can’t.

“I’m yours,” he tells him again, and he wants to repeat it a thousand times until Buck believes him, but Buck doesn’t allow it, his lips probing and gentle as he hushes him with a kiss. “’m yours…”

“Shh, I know,” Buck whispers, his kisses spreading over the apples of Eddie’s cheeks, his eyelids, the laugh lines across his forehead. “You are so _beautiful_ like this. And I’m so lucky to have you, to be yours. And I am _yours_ too Eddie. Wholly and irreversibly.”

Eddie lets Buck circle his long arms around them, pulling him close against his chest, and there’s so much more he wants to tell him, things he wants him to know before they’re home, but he’s already fading and the steady rise and fall of Buck’s chest lulls him to sleep.

* * *

He wakes to the first morning light and shifts to get up and make coffee over the last glowing coals of the fire, but when he tries to free himself, Buck only pulls him tighter. Eddie isn’t sure he is even awake until he squints one eye open, smiling playfully as he holds Eddie against him. Eddie begins to struggle, on principle alone.

“Don’t you want coffee?” Eddie asks, giving up the fight and settling against Buck’s chest, letting his fingers trail down the soft blond curls exposed by his open lapels. “You can be rather grumpy in the mornings.”

He is delighted to learn these things about Buck, the tiny habits and routines that will inevitably become part of Eddie’s life. His face must reveal his joy in the moment because Buck’s eyes open a sliver, and he leans forward to press his lips to Eddie’s forehead, still grumbling.

“If we get moving now, we could be home by early afternoon,” Eddie reminds him, and he watches Buck’s expression fill with lightness and hope as he hears Eddie refer to home as _theirs_. It finally causes him to stir, and he stretches his arm wide, finally releasing Eddie so he can stand. His pants nearly fall to the ground, forgotten in his exhaustion the night before, and he drags them up quickly, but not before Buck laughs at him, watching him with his eyes still half-closed. “It’s up to you. Either you can eat beans again, or you can start moving and have homemade empanadas. Your choice.”

He has Buck’s attention. “How do you know there will be empanadas?”

“Abuela knows they’re my favorite, so she keeps all the ingredients on hand when she knows I’m coming home,” Eddie explains, beginning to roll up their blankets, dragging one from underneath Buck to get him moving. Buck rolls onto his side, reaching for his belt and stumbling to the edge of their campsite to relieve himself before looping the belt around his waist.

He helps Eddie pack up, but not without his share of groans and yawns, then finally they mount their horses and head south toward El Paso. For a while, the only sound is the steady clop of their horses’ feet and the buzz of insects, but eventually Buck wakes enough to converse with him.

From his stilted questions, Eddie can tell that he is nervous about meeting his family. Eddie knows that Christopher and Abuela will accept Buck, if for no other reason than Eddie tells them they should, but he too is nervous. Until now, he hasn’t had to share Buck with anyone, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to give up that indulgence.

Now that the sun is high in the sky, the heat is sweltering, so they stop to rest near a stream. It seems a good time to take a dip, to wash the silt and sweat from their bodies before returning home. They stand at the riverbank, making no effort to hide the way they watch each other disrobe at a leisurely pace, eyes surveying each exposed inch of skin as they remove their clothing.

Buck finishes first, stripped bare and watching Eddie over his shoulder in the glare of the late morning sun, before he smirks playfully and jumps in. The water comes to his chest, and he starts to splash himself to cleanse the stickiness from the hollow of his throat, before he splashes at Eddie, frozen on the bank as he watches Buck’s hands trail from his throat to dip below the surface of the water. _Wonder where that leads…_

“Join me, and you’ll find out,” Buck answers him, and Eddie’s eyes flick up to be sure he hasn’t spoken the words aloud. He hasn’t. Buck is only teasing him, but he isn’t far off the mark. He finishes undressing, folding his clothes neatly on the bank, before dipping his toe in the water.

It’s chilly, and he hisses at the contact, stalling in the shallows. Buck doesn’t shiver at all, splashes his face and ducks underwater to cleanse his hair before dragging his fingers against his scalp. Through his shaking, Eddie is still caught up watching him, like a dream he is waiting to wake from. For once, he is absolutely sure that he is conscious, otherwise the water would not be biting at his calves.

“Don’t make me come get you,” Buck warns him, splashing him again as he recoils. He starts to tread toward him, and Eddie wants to back away, but he hasn’t made it far enough from the bank and doesn’t have much room for retreat. Buck comes forward until the water flows around his hips, and then he reaches out, grabbing for Eddie as he dodges him.

Unfortunately, he is not quite as successful as he thought in evading Buck’s long reach, and Buck has him by his thigh, dragging him forward until he falls into his arms and into deeper water. He inhales sharply as he is submerged to his chest, and Buck is laughing at him with no reserve, dragging them into the deep water where he must stand on his toes, bobbing next to Buck on his flat feet.

The only warmth he feels is where Buck’s skin is pressed against him, his knee slotted between Eddie’s, the heat where their thighs touch, Buck hands wandering over his sides and chest. Slowly he gets used to the water, or is at least distracted by Buck’s touch, experimental and leading, as his fingers traces the lines of his chest.

He hums with pleasure, and Buck smirks, “So how thin are the walls in this house of yours?”

Eddie leans into him, pressing his nose into the crook of Buck’s neck and pressing his lips to his clavicle, sliding his tongue and teeth against the bone in a smooth line. Buck’s mouth falls open, gasping, as Eddie tightens his hold on his hips.

“Pretty thin,” Eddie finally admits, his voice low. “We’ll have to find a way to keep it down. Do you think you can do that? Or do we need to get some of that out of your system before we get home?”

Buck’s hands curl around his hips, digging into the thick muscle of his ass as he growls against Eddie’s shoulder, before he drags his hands lower, looping them behind Eddie’s thighs and lifting him into his arms. Eddie doesn’t argue, just circles his legs around Buck’s hips, leaning into him and letting the buoyancy lift him up until he can meet Buck’s eyes at level.

It’s not long before he feels a familiar hardness pressing against the base of his stomach, and he loops his arms around Buck’s neck. Buck clutches onto him, pressing them flush, and Eddie groans as the stiff, slickness between them turns into a steady friction. Buck is focused on the movement, on continuing their rhythm, so Eddie presses open-mouthed kisses to his jaw and throat, adjusting his hips so he can feel more of Buck’s hard length as they stroke against one another.

He feels an ache building inside of him, and his throat is rough from crying out, so he tries to muffle the sound in Buck’s shoulder, his teeth grazing the sun-kissed skin there before biting down fitfully. Buck’s fingers flex against his ass, goring into his flesh, and he must like it because he whispers, “Again, _fuck_.”

Eddie shifts to the base of his throat, tonguing at the warm hollow, feeling Buck whine underneath his lips, before he nibbles there, teasing him, and then finally, when he can feel Buck tense under his touch, he bites down, full well knowing that he is marking him.

Buck cries out, and Eddie can feel the pulsing against his abdomen, against his cock, as he comes, the evidence washed away in the stream. He’s afraid this will stop, just before he crests, that Buck will drop him onto his feet, but he doesn’t, using one strong arm to hold him up as the other slides between their bodies to fist him. His hold is like a vice, and Eddie doesn’t need any prompting, but still he mutters, “Fuck, come for me sweetheart.”

The pressure subsides all at once as he comes, crying out, an echo into the nearby brush. He collapses into Buck’s arms as he slowly lets him down, his legs shaking as Buck leans forward to capture his lips, like he can still taste the words on them as he came.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks breathlessly, but his smile matches Buck’s.

“If that’s okay with you.”

“I think it is,” he says, his voice betraying his delight at the affectionate term. Finally catching his breath, he holds it for a moment, dipping below the water and feeling a new shock of cold behind his ears as he emerges again.

Buck laughs at him openly again, but he drags his fingers through his hair, his nails combing against his scalp, and Eddie feels content to let him, curling into the touch like a sated cat.

“We should get going if we have any hope of empanadas before dark,” Buck reminds him, but he doesn’t withdraw, waiting until Eddie nods absently, retracting from his fingers with a sigh. Eddie leads them to the bank, and they dress in silence. Eddie is grateful to see that Buck leaves his shirt open for the ride, and while they have only a few hours left until they’re home, he takes four ripe peaches from his saddle bags and divides them so they can eat as they travel.

Buck takes a bite of the peach’s flesh before mounting his horse, and Eddie watches as the juice drips down his chin. In a last passionate gesture, he leans into him, licking into a kiss and catching the juice on his tongue. He smiles as he withdraws to see the shock and wonder on Buck’s face but turns and mounts his horse before he can respond.

* * *

Eddie makes sure he is ahead of Buck as they approach the house on horseback. From a distance, he can see Abuela on the porch, her revolver at her side but not engaged. She is expecting them.

He has never felt more secure in returning home than he is with Buck at his side. Something about it makes his family complete, his home and heart finally full.

Behind her skirts, Christopher is watching impatiently, excited to see him, but also to meet Buck. Eddie had written ahead to explain as best he could that Buck would be helping them plow and plant, that maybe now Eddie could stay with them instead of leaving on cattle drives. He hadn’t had time to receive a reply before heading toward home, but he had asked that his Abuela set up the trundle bed in the kitchen, the one he’d slept on before his parents left.

He had no intention of letting Buck sleep there, but he wasn’t sure how to face his Abuela with the truth, so he’d explained the arrangement to Buck, who had agreed and accepted it without hesitation. That night, once Abuela and Christopher had gone upstairs for the night, Buck would join him in his bed, and they would wake at break of dawn to survey the land and see where they should begin.

He doesn’t make it to the porch before he hops off his horse, letting the horse trail behind him on its lead and tying it absently to the hitching post as Christopher runs into his arms. He holds him close, forgetting everything in the word but his son in his arms, until Christopher breaks free.

“Can I meet my present Daddy?” he asks, wrestling free of Eddie’s hold to see over his shoulder where Buck waits nervously astride his horse.

“Hello,” Buck says nervously, the shortest sentence he’s ever uttered, and Eddie gestures for him to get down. Carefully, he dismounts and walks to stand in front of Christopher, who coyly directs him to kneel.

Once they’re on the same level, Christopher takes over, “So I heard that you’re my Papa’s friend and you’ve come to help us run the farm again. But I was wondering, can you be my friend too?”

Buck laughs, but Eddie can see the tears of relief in the corners of his eyes, “Of course we can be friends. We can be best friends! My name is Buck, and you must be Christopher. Your dad hasn’t stopped talking about you since I met him.”

“Really?” Christopher asks, and all at once Eddie realizes how little of his existence Christopher is aware of when he’s away from home. He wants to take back every stolen moment on the road, but instead he renews his commitment to making this work, to making it so that he and Buck can have a successful farm, maybe even a ranch one day, and he’ll never have to leave his son again.

“Absolutely,” Buck confirms, and then seems to sense another presence. Abuela still hasn’t said anything from her perch on the step, and Eddie leads Buck over to introduce him. Her face is friendly but calculating, sizing Buck up as he stands in front of her. She has height on him from the step, and she uses it to watch him carefully.

Buck takes off his hat, holds it to his chest, and waits to be judged. Eddie had tried to give him tips before they had arrived, ways to endear himself, and Buck stutters as he bows his head, “Senõra Diaz, my name is Buck. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

Abuela smirks with amusement as Buck stumbles over the term of respect, and quickly allows, “Buck, you may call me Isabel. Or Abuela if it suits you. Wouldn’t be fair for you to feel left out in that regard. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Buck answers quickly, and Abuela nods, always happy to fill an empty stomach, before shooing them away to stable the horses.

Eddie begins walking with the horses on leads behind him, knowing that Buck and Christopher will follow, but hears a stilted conversation behind him and listens closely while pretending not to.

“Do you want to walk all the way to the stables?” Buck asks carefully.

He can hear his own stubbornness on Christopher’s lips, “I can do it myself.”

“Oh, I know that. But where I’m from I lift heavy barrels all day to keep me strong, and I don’t see any barrels around here, so I thought I might lift you instead. Would you let me do that?”

Eddie can see the look on Christopher’s face, knows it from experience without turning around, as he considers the prospect, before he sees the sense in it, “So I would be doing you a favor?”

“A big one.”

“Well then,” Christopher decides, and he must allow Buck to pick him up because Eddie finally hears footfalls behind him. He opens the stable doors and turns to see Christopher perched atop Buck’s back and looking rather comfortable.

Eddie stables and feeds the horses as Christopher points Buck in the direction of the goats to introduce them. Once he has duly taught Buck all of their names, he points him toward the chickens. That’s where Eddie finds them, as Buck’s eyes cross trying to tell the difference between them. Eddie chuckles, endeared by the attention Buck is paying his son, and is almost sorry to interrupt.

“Chris, haven’t I told you not to play with your food before you eat it?” he reminds him, earning him a glare from his son and an almost-green look from Buck. “Come on you two, let’s wash up before dinner.”

Buck shifts Christopher’s weight onto his side as they walk back to the house, and Eddie sidles up next to him, letting his hand settle at the small of Buck’s back. Buck looks over at him with such gratefulness and love that he can barely stand it.

* * *

Christopher carefully teaches Buck how to set the table as Eddie follows Abuela’s directions in the kitchen. It’s too late for him to consider the contradiction of their assignments, though even he can manage to butter and salt corn before bringing it to the table with the massive plate of empanadas.

Eddie takes his seat at the head of the table, assigned to him since his father left, at his abuela’s insistence. Christopher takes his seat next to him, and then Buck hesitates, glancing between the two seats left to him. Eddie can tell that he is avoiding taking the opposite seat, not wanting to usurp Abuela’s place.

Bless his abuela, though. Just as Buck moves to pull out the seat across from Christopher, she smiles as she slides into the seat, “Oh thank you Buck. What a gentleman.”

Buck is flushed as he takes the seat at the opposite end, and Christopher is the first to reach out and take his hand. Buck seems confused for a moment, but then Chris directs him to take his hand and bow his head as Eddie leads Grace, at the insistence of Abuela.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen. Thank you to Abuela for cooking this delicious meal, thank you Buck for joining us, and thank you to…”

“Reba,” Christopher says dourly, obviously conflicted as he looks at the steaming empanadas.

“Reba the chicken, for her sacrifice so we could eat these delicious empanadas today,” he adds, a compromise he and Chris had come to long ago. They thanked any of the animals they ate during Grace, as silly as it sometimes felt.

Buck had no warning of this custom and is forced to hide a snicker behind his hand as Eddie begins passing the plates of food around the table. As he helps serve Christopher from the heavy plates, he glances across the table and sees Buck watching him. He can’t quite tell the meaning behind his gaze, but he can feel the warmth radiating from his as he mouths, “Thank you.”

-

They spend the evening by the fire, taking turns telling stories. Eddie tells stories of chasing after steers on cattle drives, Abuela embarrasses him with stories of his childhood, Christopher tells stories with the goats as characters, and Buck, well Buck embellishes a bit to keep things child appropriate.

“He was so surprised that he ran out the back door with his pants down, and he wasn’t looking where he was going, so he fell headfirst into the horses’ trough!” Buck tells, and he has Christopher bent over laughing with his storytelling abilities. Abuela looks at Eddie sideways, suspicious of the context of this story, but even she has a smile playing at her lips.

Christopher’s giggles turn into a weary yawn, and Eddie can tell that he doesn’t want to go to sleep, doesn’t want to miss a moment. So Eddie promises him that he will wake him in the morning to survey the fields with him and Buck. Even Buck seems pleased as Abuela leads Christopher up the stairs to bed.

Buck has been sitting on the trundle with Christopher, hoping that Abuela would assume he was ready for bed, but as Eddie watches him through the flickering firelight, his eyes go dark, waiting for an invitation.

“Would you like to see my room?” Eddie asks innocently, and Buck stands, stepping forward to hold out his hand and pull Eddie up off the floor. Buck drags him against his chest, and Eddie can feel the hard press of muscle against him, feels a thrum in his fingertips as he reaches out to press his fingers to Buck’s bicep.

The moment is heavy, and his feet feel like lead as he prepares to lead Buck to his bed for the first time. It’s the bed he shared with his wife, the bed his parents shared before him. He should feel apprehensive about exposing something so personal, allowing Buck in in more ways than one, but he doesn’t, and he holds the door open to Buck and lets him pass through, taking a look around the room.

He gravitates to the dresser, where there is a gilt frame that holds a photo of Shannon and him at their wedding. She looks beautiful, with her hair piled on her head, her smile outweighing his obvious nerves. In the time she has been gone, he has never put away the photo. He doesn’t want Christopher to forget the mother that died bringing him into the world.

Buck picks up the photograph, squinting as Eddie lights a match and brings the kerosene lamp to flame. Now that he can see better, he takes a closer look at the photo, “So this is Christopher’s mother?”

“Shannon, my wife,” Eddie is afraid the word will make Buck uncomfortable, but it doesn’t seem to. Instead, he sets the frame down and flops onto the mattress.

“Christopher looks just like her,” Buck observes, smiling. “But he acts like you. Stubborn as a mule, the both of you.”

Eddie can’t disagree, just settles next to Buck on the bed, wondering if he’s made any other observations in his short time here, “So you don’t mind?”

“Mind?”

“Christopher,” Eddie prompts, wanting to be sure that his son’s focus on his new playmate hasn’t overwhelmed Buck. “I can tell him he should leave you be.”

Buck shoves him a little, chuckling, “Don’t you dare! Weren’t you there when I told him he’s my best friend? I meant it Eddie. I love kids, I love _your_ kid. I’ll tell you if it gets to be too much—but it won’t.”

Eddie is overwhelmed by fondness, wonders how he could have stumbled onto a man that fits into his life so well, that loves his son after a day, loves him after a month. He wonders what he did to deserve the security he feels with Buck, the heated glances, the touches that wordlessly say that Buck has his back. He doesn’t know how he lived without it, doesn’t want to ever again.

Buck’s face has gone serious, likely mirroring his own, and he reaches out to carefully press his fingertips to Eddie’s face. The pad of his thumb presses to Eddie’s lower lip, and he purses them, letting them fall open into a kiss before he speaks the words aloud, “Buck, I love you. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I do.”

Buck closes the distance between them, tasting the words on his lips, and Eddie is powerless to stop him. Without breaking their kiss, Buck begins to work at knot of the bandana tied at his throat, and when he loosens it, replaces the knot with his lips, and Eddie tries to muffle the sound it elicits as he breathes out.

He begins to blindly work at the buttons of Buck’s shirt, his fingers dragging at the seam as he struggles to reach the warm expanse of skin beneath the fabric. Buck begins to work at his own buttons, and he is so steady, so sure of himself, that he makes quick work of them. His lips dip lower, kissing a line down his sternum then across to his nipple, taking it into his mouth and sliding his teeth against it, distracting Eddie from his task entirely.

Buck notices when he stills and takes over, his fingers deftly undoing the last few buttons on his shirt and shrugging out of it. In the same liquid movement, he moves toward Eddie, pushing him back onto the bed and continues where he left off, kissing a trail down to his waist, where he works his trousers down, lifting Eddie’s hips so he can discard them.

His breath is hot against Eddie’s cock, and Buck teases him as he undoes his own trousers, adjusting until they are off. Eddie lets his eyes scan over Buck’s body, the thick muscles and strong sinew, the softness of his skin and the curls on his chest. He could spend a lifetime exploring this body, and given the chance, he will.

Buck drags his hips forward, curling his biceps around Eddie’s thighs and centering himself over Eddie’s hard cock, watching him hungrily before dipping down to tease him. He swirls his tongue around the tip before sucking hard on the head, then lowering himself inch by devasting inch until Eddie can feel the constriction of Buck’s throat against his cock. He brings his fist to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles to silence himself as Buck _gags_ on him.

“Please, Buck,” he begs, his teeth still deep in his skin. “I don’t want to come like this. Please, fuck me. I want you inside me. Please.”

He’s never begged like this before, but his whole body aches to be filled, to feel Buck inside him in the most intimate of places, deeper than he’s ever imagined. He wants Buck to see him, to feel him, in ways nobody has before, and he wants to share everything. _Everything_.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Buck soothes as he crawls up his body, letting his abs dip so that they sweep against him, chest hair tickling his navel. “I’ll do anything for you. _Anything_.”

“Make love to me Buck, please,” he murmurs, and he’s afraid for a moment that Buck doesn’t hear him, but then he feels the warm press of lips against his, an exploring tongue, and a thumb working the hinge of his jaw open. Eddie lets his knees fall wide, tucking them to Buck’s sides as he settles between them.

His fingers drag against Buck’s thick thighs as he readies for him, and Buck realizes a moment too late what is missing, leaning off the side of the bed to reach for the saddle bags laid across a chair, fumbling for the jar of salve. His lips find Eddie’s as his fingers circle his entrance, swallowing his cries as Buck works him open.

Buck’s fingers feel so good inside him, circling his prostate and thumbing at his perineum. He wants to touch himself, to feel the rush of his orgasm, but he wants to do so with Buck inside him, filling him with that steady thickness that amplifies everything he feels. His breath catches with each thrust of Buck’s fingers against the bundle of nerves inside him, and he’s near-weeping with want, his words just pleading nonsense against his lips.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Buck asks, so tenderly it almost breaks him, and he pants as Buck shifts, slipping his fingers out, replacing them with his hard length. Eddie hiccups with the sensation of being filled, and Buck stalls, waiting for him to adjust, before Eddie begins the movement, rolling his hips into Buck, who lets quiet aching moans slip past his lips.

Eddie directs him to hold his eyes as he thrusts inside him, his cock twitching between them at the tension of such unguarded eye contact. Buck’s eyes turn like stormy seas in the darkness, and Eddie can feel the sensation of his orgasm building in his abdomen, his fingers digging into Buck’s thighs as he tries to hold his gaze. Buck must see him balancing on edge, because he bends his head, wrapping Eddie’s arms around him, and thrusts harder, a steady crescendo as Eddie desperately leans in, biting the meat of his shoulder to muffle his cries as he comes hard against Buck, who follows him after three long strokes of his hips.

Buck collapses on him, and while they try to catch their breath, their panting loud in the quiet of the sleeping house, he makes no move to roll over, nor does Eddie suggest it. Instead he lets his fingers drift along Buck’s sides, kissing his shoulder gently where his teeth had gouged crescent-shaped marks into his skin. Buck hums with pleasure as his breath shallows out, and Eddie is sure he is falling asleep.

Rather than force him off, Eddie shifts him bit by bit until he can slide out from under him. He searches for pants in the darkness, pulling them on before quietly opening his door and slipping into the kitchen for a glass of water. He begins to pump the water at the sink, before he feels himself being watched, and he clutches a hand to his chest when he finds Abuela standing on the bottom step.

“You’d need a drink with that sweat you boys worked up,” she says, her slippered feet crossing the floor quietly. Her voice is free of judgment, and if there’s anything there, Eddie is surprised to find that she’s…teasing him?

“It’s a hot night,” he mutters, hoping she can’t see him blush in the moonlight. “And what do you mean, _you boys_?”

She pointedly glances to where the trundle is still-made and empty, and his eyes follow hers, realizing that no explanation would do justice to her insight.

“You could always tell when I was lying couldn’t you?”

“And I could always keep your secrets,” she reminds him. He’d always been able to be honest with his Abuela in a way he couldn’t be with his parents. Since he was small, she could see the makings of his heart. “I can keep this one for you, but you don’t need to keep it from me.”

His mouth works in the darkness, searching for a response, but he has none, so his mouth closes and he waits for her to say more, tears pressing at the corners of his eyes.

“Edmundo, I know it has been a long while since we lost your abuelo, but I remember what love looks like. I can see the way that boy looks at you, and you look at him. You deserve happiness mijo, and if that boy is it then you should have him.

“I can’t pretend I understand, or that I don’t wish you would choose an easier path, but I trust your instincts. And he’s a nice boy. He will take care of you and Christopher when I’m gone.”

“Which won’t be anytime soon,” Eddie reminds her, crossing the short distance to pull her into a hug. She smells of lavender and love, the comfort of a grandmother’s arms. He sighs into her, relief coursing through his veins as he breathes in, feeling like a little boy again. “I love you Abuela.”

“I love you too, my Edmundo,” she says, patting him soundly on his cheek. She yawns, “Well, now that I’ve caught you, I can go back to bed.”

“Caught me?” Eddie blushes enough that she must see him glowing in the darkness. “Abuela, you didn’t hear…”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she says, with a nonchalance he didn’t expect from his strict Catholic grandmother. “I just came to see if your friend was asleep in his bunk, or if he might be elsewhere.”

Their eyes drift to the closed door of his bedroom. “Don’t let him hog the covers. Edmundo used to take all of them then fight like a bear when I tried to take them back. No man is worth cold feet, Edmundo. Remember that.”

She presses a coy finger to the side of her nose, then points her feet toward the stairs, showing that their late-night discovery has reached its end.

“Goodnight, Abuela,” he tells her, then as an afterthought, he adds. “Thank you.”

She smiles and kisses his cheek, and he wishes he had words that could truly capture the size of his gratitude as he hears the steps retreat behind him then climb the stairs to the landing. He returns to the kitchen for his glass of water, then returns to his bed, where Buck has indeed tucked himself into the quilt.

Usually he would take Abuela’s advice without question, but this night he curls around Buck without taking the covers back. He looks too comfortable to disturb, but Eddie can’t resist holding him close. He stirs for just a moment when he feels the arms wrap around him, the lips pressed to his temple, and Eddie shushes him, “It’s just me love, I’m right here.”

“Love,” Buck murmurs in his sleep, and Eddie feels the word roll over him, settling in his chest and leading him to sleep. He has never felt more at home.


End file.
